Often love's soft, sweet offering
shows up when you are least prepared,
busily preoccupied with tracing
ephemeral alphabets in the rain,
rejoicing in former suffering,
learning the grammar of mud or
experiencing eye blasting hallucinations.
Love does not know patience;
its moans return to oblivion.
You never notice and it vanishes
and doesn't matter at all because
you can't miss something unseen,
not even love's soft, sweet offering.
  ~mce